It's Always a Cycle

I realize I haven't blogged in...almost two months. It's not like it matters, because nobody reads this anyway. It's 1 AM and I can't sleep.

It's been rough the past couple of weeks. I was doing well before that. I was working 50+ hour weeks, and found myself so preoccupied with my work that I didn't even have time to stress about anything else. It was wonderful...until two weeks ago when they had to cut my hours back. That meant spending more time at home, which, as usual, turned into more stress.

It was last Monday that began my vicious, self-destructive cycle all over again. I wasn't feeling well. I had just endured a five day bought with a stomach bug and had very little patience. I was in the kitchen when, for no reason, my mother started calling me names. I had a pimple on my nose, so she started calling me "fat Rudolph." I kept to myself fir a few minutes, but she kept going on. Finally, I just blew up and said that at least I had a pretty face. Then she said the most hurtful words: "You look just like me." She rubbed it in my face. I finally left the room and went to go cry in the bathroom. I didn't know whether to cry or scream. So many emotions ran through me. Memories came back to the surface.

I burned myself that night. I burned my entire abdomen right up to my chest. I tried to burn my mother out of me. I hate when people say I look like her. I don't want to look like her. I don't want to look on the mirror and see her. It disgusts me. I can't seem to escape her. Sometimes I want to disfigure myself so badly that I won't look like her at all. The pain the burn gave me is only a fraction of the pain my heart that I can never explain. I wish I can tell people what's wrong with me. Society has idealized mothers so much that people pass judgment on me for not idealizing mine. I guess I'll always feel alone.